Konstantine
by ScriptsOfShadows
Summary: "I can't believe you!" She yelled, her cheeks flushed in anger as the wind whipped at her face. "Me? You're the one that did this to us! This isn't a fairytale Blair grow up already." AU
1. Begins at the end

August 23, 2020. Summer heat was dissipating; the color change of leaves and the light breeze that swept through the streets of New York City suggested that autumn would soon be upon them. A chorus of laughter and pumpkin spice lattes filled the air, fuelling the inhabitants' carefree attitudes. Life, that's what it was. The change of seasons brought with it a sense of life, the feeling of being truly alive. Standing on the sidelines, watching as yet another year passed them by. Doing nothing to seize the moment, taking the time left in their life for granted. It was once said that what we do for ourselves die along with us, what we do for others, what we leave behind, is immortal. Forever set in stone for generations long after we have left this world to appreciate. Like sand in an hour glass, gone were the days of high school and petty rivalries. The need to mature, be married, and produce an heir increased as the sand slipped through. Most married during or right after college, having or baring their first child. Few were still unwed, searching for their perfect match, whatever that means. Others, Well, the others weren't so lucky.

At twenty- nine, Blair Waldorf sat at alone at the over sized dinning room table in her custom designed penthouse suite at the Empire Hotel. _Their _place, or at least what was their place before her dream life was shattered and he moved into the penthouse suite of the Palace Hotel, with his new eighteen year old Russian, bleached out Barbie'd bimbo. Oh hell, even that would be an insult to Barbie. Poor plastic fashionista. Blair hated her and everything she stood for. She wasn't even a natural blond! Her dark roots where an inch thick, she was too tall, her tits where a little too big for her model thin body and she wore too much make up. She was trash, were as Blair was the epitome of class and grace. Everything the girl would never have, including her ex. She would never last more than a month in the cut throat society they lived in, she wasn't one of them. She didn't have what it took. Especially to satisfy _his_ needs.

The once busy, warm and loving household was now abandoned and cold. Not even the fire in the fire place brought warmth. Not a soul insight, not a single employed staff member, and for good reason too. Nobody was stupid enough to be around an unpredictable Blair. And at this time she was brimming insanity. She was practically driving herself mad with hate. There was only so much a person could take before they lost it and she was coiled so tightly she was bound to snap soon.

She sat scrapping her fork roughly against the center of her plate, her face twisted in anger, only one thought playing through her mind. She hated him, despised him with every inch of her five foot two body, so much so that it consumed her. She couldn't even think about anything else at the moment, other than the fact that she wanted him dead. Murdered to be more specific, she would even do it herself, if not for the fear of getting her freshly manicured fingernails dirty and the scandal and jail time that would be sure to follow. Contrary to belief she could not and would not look good in an orange jumpsuit. He deserved every inch of bad karma that the world decided to bestow on his smarmy little body. He would get what was coming to him. She would make sure of it. She needed something to break him, tear him apart, cut him so deep that he was left alone in this world with nothing, bleeding openly in a dark alley somewhere. But before that could happen, she needed a plan. Something that was cruel, creative, and diabolical. She needed something down right evil that trademarked Blair Waldorf-Bass. She needed revenge and she would get it. Right after all the T's were crossed, the I's dotted, and the divorce finalized. She will make him wish he never crossed her, she would ruin his life. Good bye movie script, hello reality. Fortunately for her, she happened to be in the perfect line of work to make that happen.

Growling at her loss of appetite, Blair shoved the half eaten portion roughly away from her. She didn't flinch as dish slid across the clothed table and teetered to the ground. The priceless China shattered on impact, scattering small shards of porcelain along the hard wood floor. She didn't care; it was _his_ good china, not hers. Ignoring sharp fragments, she brushed off her work suit and started toward the foyer. Pausing briefly, she grabbed her pastel Bourkin bag and light Armani jacket before stepping into the elevator.

Twenty minutes later she arrived at the place that had became her home away from home over the last seven years. The outside of the twelve story building offered little to no information as to what lie on inside, it was not open to the public and was heavily guarded as such. Striding purposely through security, she flashed her ID at the police officer on duty. Receiving a stiff nod in approval from the suit, she continued her journey to the seventh floor, her department.

Choosing not to acknowledge the few greetings offered to her and their curious eyes, she headed straight to her office. Dropping her purse unceremoniously upon the large oak desk, she plopped down into her chair and heaved a heavy sigh. Immediately she started shifting through the thick stack of profiles that had been left for her and turned her computer on. She was glad for the massive amounts of work in front of her, anything would be a welcomed distraction from her bastard of a, soon-to-be, ex-husband.

"Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence," a man's voice teased playfully.

Breaking her intense focus from the text, yet not needing to look up to know who was leaning against the door frame of her office, she continued to stare unseeing at the pages.

"Watch it, I'm not in the mood," she warned dangerously, "Respect your superiors. If I hear that condescending tone from your mouth again, I will not be held liable when I cut your tongue out with my Swiss army knife."

"Noted," he stated seriously, fighting the amused smile from appearing on his lips.

"What can I do for you today Rosenbalm?" she relented, humoring the annoying person for a moment. Sighing once again as she laid her papers down and turned her cold eyes toward him when he didn't answer her right away. Not the least surprised when she noticed that the well dressed man was indeed leaning against her door frame, looking every bit of the cocky son of a bitch that he was. I wasn't even attractive, it was infuriating, he annoyed the hell out of her.

"Boss gave strict orders. There will be a briefing for your team in his office," he relayed once he was sure he had her undivided attention.

"When did he inform you to come get us?"

"Five minutes ago?" he guessed distractedly, his eyes trained on her body.

"Did he say what it was pertaining to?" She pressed, he was really trying to test her resolve, she was sure of it.

"I wasn't invited to tag along," he shrugged in false nonchalance.

She regarded the man in front of her closely. Thirty-eight, unmarried, no children, joined the department two years ago. He wasn't exactly ugly, but he wasn't good looking either. He spent most of his time hitting on her in attempt to be accepted onto her team. It wasn't going to happen. He could barley get the coffee order right. She wasn't going to hand him more responsibility, just for being a kiss ass. She detesting him, almost as much as another cocky son of a bitch she knew.

"Pity," she bit out sarcastically, rolling her eyes in the process.

Ignoring anything else he had to say, she stood up, abandoning her comfy seat, and started toward the door. Shooting him a unwavering glare on the way out.

"Bass, thank you for joining us today," her boss welcomed sarcastically as she walked through the door of the conference room, "your late."

She nodded in his direction stiffly before taking a seat at the table her team sat at. Her boss was speaking again, not that she could really pay attention to the words that were spilling from his overly large mouth. It wasn't that she disliked the guy, it was quite the opposite actually. When she first started he was the only one to believe in her, to take a chance on her, and he was rewarded when she excelled above every-ones expectations. He was like a father to her. The problem was, ever since her and Chuck separated, she couldn't help but resent him. Mr. Thomas Abernathy, a man in his fifty's with little to nothing to show for it. Was that how she was going to end up? Alone. No family. No one to weep at her funeral, no one to mourn for her when she passes on? She was bitter. In reality, she knew it wasn't Mr. Abernathy's fault that she was getting a divorce. She shouldn't have even gotten married in the first place. The divorce rate in her line of work was outrageous. You were either at work, or you were on call. It's hard to maintain a relationship, when your life revolves around your work.

"We will regroup on the plane at six pm. That gives you a little over three hours to head home, gather your belongings and set your affairs in order." Mr. Abernathy announced, a hint of dismissal in his voice.

Shit! What did he even say? Where were they going? She really needed to get it together, least she screw up on the job. She wouldn't, no, couldn't jeopardize this. She couldn't afford to. They could not afford to. She apparently had three hours to get her shit together. She also had a few affairs she had to set in order, but not the type he was suggesting. When he spoke of affairs he meant to arrange people to watch your children or explain to your spouse that you were leaving for a few days. Blair on the other hand, had slightly other ideas.

"Bass, do you think I could speak with you for a moment?" He asked as everyone got up to leave, his tone more of a demand than that of a question.

When he didn't receive a response, he waiting until the area was clear of eavesdroppers before closing the door. When he thought it okay to continue he turned to his, his professional persona dissolving once they were alone.

"How you holding up?" Her boss inquired, his eyes softening as he took in her pristine appearance.

"Peachy," she answered snidely, not caring to elaborate.

"And the divorce?" He pressed, standing from the table.

"It's taking a lot longer than expected or necessary, although I have a pretty good Idea that my ex may have something to do with it."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Mr. Abernathy stated distractedly, his eyes sympathetic as he busied himself with the espresso machine on the counter.

"I should have accounted for it," Blair shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the topic of conversation or her bosses disinterest.

"You seem a little distracted lately, are you sure your up for this?" he questioned cautiously.

"I have never neglected my duty. I will not start now. Is there a reason for you to assume that I would decline?" The brunette inquired as she leaned back in her chair, her dark orbs trained on her superior as he readied his coffee.

"I just thought with everything going on, that the last thing you would need would be to-" he explained.

"I'm going," she announced, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"You know no one would think illy of you should you chose to stay home. We understand."

"There is nothing to go home to any longer," she stated, her eyes void of emotion.

"Blair," he addressed informally, "I think you should take a vacation, talk to someone. I'm not saying talk to me, I'm just saying talk to someone. Your problems aren't just going to go away."

"With all due respect sir. I will be on that plane Thomas, with or without your approval," she stated determinedly as she stood, opened the door, and stocked from the room in a huff.

She knew it was unfair of her to vent her rage on colleges, but she couldn't help it. They were just so damn infuriating. Ever since the split they had been treating her like the china that scattered her dining room that morning. She wasn't going to break. Everyone just needed to mind their own messy personal affairs and stop sticking their noses in her business. Everyone feels the need to put their two cents in. It's not their decisions, its not their lives. She doesn't tell them how to live. Who are they to tell her how to run her own life. She has always been a strong and independent person. Overly so if she was completely honest with herself. She was just fine on her own pre-Chuck Bass, she will be just fine post.

Going back to her office, she grabbed her bag and a stack of folders before locking up her office. Nodding occasionally at people she deemed worthy as she left the building and ignoring Rosenbalm all together. The nerve of that guy.

Once outside she pulled out her Droid and scrolled through her contact list. Finding the number she wanted, she pressed the green call button and held the device to her ear as she walked out onto the busy New York side walk.

"Bass, I was wondering when I might hear from you again," a deep voice answered after a few short rings.

"I'm sure," she replied, her tone not masking her disgust for the man on the other end.

"Should I be worried?" he asked cryptically.

"Unfortunate as it is for me, it's your lucky day. Your little black market scam is safe... for now."

"This call is off the records. All records. Meaning you tell no one, you delete all proof, and you forget it ever happened." Blair stressed, trying to get her meaning across.

"Yeah yeah yeah, I get it. What can I do for you?"

"I need a new I.D. and Passport," she relayed seriously, her voice low as she spoke into the receiver.

"Your not turning against us are you?" The man teased.

"Your job is not to ask questions, your job is to see to it that it gets done. I need it dropped off at the service desk of my building. I'll pay in cash. You have two hours to get it there." She informed, snapping her phone shut and disconnecting the call.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Blair stepped into the elevator. She had just dropped an envelope full of cash at the desk in the front lobby, accompanied by a set of strict instructions. Balancing her Starbucks latte, cream cheese danish, and designer bag she reached into her jacket for her key. She rummaged through the pocket until her hand wrapped around a thin plastic rectangle. Pulling out the card she slid it into the slot to grant her entry to her floor. She had passed two floors when she noticed that something was wrong. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The closer she got to her penthouse, the more pronounced the unsettling feeling became. She became anxious.

When the doors sprang open, everything seemed in order. Slipping out of the lift and into the foyer, she quietly sat her stuff down on a near by end table. If someone was in her house, she didn't want to alert them to her presence. She felt her back pocket, making sure her knife was still safely hidden and within reach should she need it. Creeping around the rooms noiselessly, she couldn't find anything out of place. Everything was exactly as she had left it, including the glass on the floor. While it was still early in the day, the house had little to no light. She had all of the thick curtains closed for a reason. She liked the darkness. Walking through the living room on the way to her bedroom, she froze noticing his presence. Relief flooded her knowing it was just him and not somebody else. The relief however was shortly replaced with annoyance. Why in hell had she not switched security locks?

"Where have you been?" A husky voice demanded to know, his body hidden in the shadows of her pitch black penthouse.

"Why don't you call Mike, I'm sure he would be more than thrilled to supply you with information on my whereabouts," she answered scathingly, knowing the faceless voice that belonged to her husband. She could feel that he was in the room, if her she had to guess she would say he was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. He had been waiting for her, and by his tone, he had been here awhile.

"Blair…" he warned.

"What are you doing here Chuck? Shouldn't you be at home with beloved white trash?" She questioned rudely as she continued her way to her room, as if he were not even there.

"I just came to talk," he defended, abandoning his chair to follow her.

"So talk," she demanded as she walked into the room and headed for her closet.

"I want to come home," he stated confidently, receiving a scoff in return he continued, "What happened a few weeks ago-"

"Was nothing. It was a mistake, nothing more, nothing less," Blair lied, she needed to leave. She was starting to feel claustrophobic.

"Don't say that. It meant something to me." He admitted, his eyes soft as he looked at her.

"I felt and still feel nothing. It was just sex. It didn't mean anything." She informed him, grabbing her pre-packed luggage for situations as this.

"I love you. I have always loved you and I always will, how can you say that doesn't... wait, are you going somewhere?" Chuck loving expression turned hard in attempt to cover the panic swelling in his chest at the sight of bags in her hands.

"You can't leave me, I won't let you," he declared when she didn't respond.

"Oh and you and your lap dogs are going to stop me?" Blair laughed coldly.

"I'll tie to the fucking Bed if I have to," he threatened seriously.

"For gods sakes Bass, I'm going on vacation," she snapped, rolling her eyes at his dramatics.

"How long?" He demanded, his calculating eyes unyielding.

"A few weeks," she answered, not really knowing herself. There was never a way to tell with those kinds of things.

"I'll come and find you, if I find that your lying to me," he stated honestly, his eyes portraying the sincerity of his words.

"You do that. I've got to go, I have a flight to catch." Blair replied curtly as she lifted the bags and started back to the foyer.

"Where are you going? Is it with him? Are you still seeing him?" He pressed, the questions falling from his lips before he could stop them.

"That's none of your business, it stopped being your business when you walked out on me six months ago." She bit out, her voice lacking its usually hostility. She felt defeated, worn down and tired. Maybe she really should take a vacation.

"I don't even care anymore. I love you Blair. I can let go. I can forget, but I can't loose you." Chuck admitted, his voice pleading as she stepped into the elevator once again, leaving him in alone in the dark.

"You already lost me," she stated sadly as she locked eyes with the man she loved and hated so much that it physically hurt, her orbs betraying her for a few seconds before the doors closed. It was just a glimpse, but she knew he caught it. The hate. The love. The sadness. The regret. The longing. It was all there. He knew it too.

Stopping by the service desk she picked up the brown envelope and slid it stealthily into her bag. Sliding her Jackie-O sunglasses on her face, she handed her bags to her driver and slipped into the back seat and let out a long sigh. The next few weeks were going to be hell.

* * *

**A/N: This is revised, the next chapter is complete. I am going to wait a few days to post it though. I have to say, at the time being, this is my favorite story. I have a lot planned for it. Anyways, enjoy. Hope it made sense. The next chapter should shed some light, if not. :)) **

**-Khrys**


	2. Undesired Evaluations

Blair gracefully stepped into the dark foyer of the Empire hotel penthouse, glad to be home after a long week away on business. It was late, well past midnight and she was exhausted, all she wanted to do was slid into bed for an internal slumber. As she expected, it was pitch black, not a single light in the house on. She heaved a tired sigh as she slipped out of her heels, the familiar sent of home clogging her nose. She dropped the abandoned shoes into a near by chair as she walked the path to the living room. Even in the dead of night, with no light what so ever, she still knew the lay out well enough to not bump into anything. She frowned as she turned the corner and noted the soft glow surrounding the living area coming from the live flames as they danced and cracked in the fire place. Her eyes swept the room before landing on the form of her husband sitting up on the couch, fast asleep. The sight brought a soft amused smile to her face and tugged the strings of her heart.

Sneaking up behind him, she wrapped her arms around his neck to embrace him and placed a kiss lovingly behind his ear. She grinned against his cheek as she felt him take a deep breath and lift his hands to enclose around hers, his eyes still closed.

"I missed you," he mumbled tiredly, his voice heavy with sleep.

"I missed you more," she admitted. Her heart swelling at the sight of the news paper and coffee on the table in front of him, he had been waiting up for her.

"How was France?" Chuck asked, nuzzling his cheek into hers and he tightened his hold to pull her closer.

"Beautiful as ever."

"And your dad?" he inquired politely.

"About the same, you know him always going on about the next big thing," she chuckled softly against his ear.

"Sounds like you had a good trip," he summed, turning his head to look at his beautiful wife through half lidded eyes.

"I did, I wish you could have came with me," she lied, knowing that he couldn't have.

"It was too short notice, I couldn't get out of work," Chuck pouted adorably. Sad that he had been stuck at home once again, by himself.

"Next time," she promised, wishing the words true.

"Next time," he repeated, knowing they wouldn't be.

"Why don't you go get in bed, I'll be up there in just a moment," she suggest, a sly smirk on her face.

He smiled softly in return, a heated look swarming his chocolate orbs as he stood from the couch and headed in the direction of their master bedroom. Blair watched his retreating form, adoration in her eyes. She loved him so much, the amount of which scared her at times. Most of the time she felt as if she couldn't breath without him. She needed him, as much as he needed her. She loved him too much to let him go. In the back of her mind, she knew that she was only hurting herself in the long run, but she was selfish. He made her happy, he was her life.

Catching something flicker out of the corner of her eye, turning her head she realized that the source of light was coming from the dinning room. Curious, she walked quietly across the room and pushed the ajar door open a little further, just enough to poke her head in and see what the mysterious light was. Her heart fell at the sight in front of her. The table had been elegantly set of a romantic dinner of two. A covered dish, half burnt candles, and empty glasses sat on each side. A bottle of imported wine sat in half melted ice and a dozen crimson red roses sat in-between. Angry with herself for disappointing him, she blew the candles out and stepped from the room, closing the doors shut behind her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, taking a moment to pull herself together before walking towards the room her and the man she loved shared.

Entering the bedroom, she looked at her husband sadly. He had fallen asleep on his side facing her, while patiently waiting for her to return. The right side of the bed had been turned down for her in a welcoming manner. Peeling off her clothes and discarding them down the laundry shoot, she slid on one of his silk pajama tops and crawled onto the warm soft mattress. Laying on her side to face him, she ran her ringers through his hair and placed a chaste kiss against his lips.

"I love you Mr. Bass," she whispered, feeling like the worst wife in history. It wasn't the first time that she had let him down and it broke her heart knowing that it wouldn't be the last. Hurting him seemed to be the only thing she was capable of.

"I love you too Mrs. Bass," he declared, wrapping his arm around her to pull her into his chest as he buried his nose in her hair to inhale the unique sent that only his wife could have.

"Mrs. Bass?" Chuck questioned, when she didn't respond, he voice scratchier than normal .

"Mrs. Bass!" Mr. Walker, a member of her team called out, jarring her awake her from her slumber.

Blinking a few times to clear the sleep from her vision, she noted that she had fell asleep curled up on one of the chairs. She didn't even recall falling asleep on the plane in the first place. Frowning slightly she sat up and stretched her legs out in front of her. Weird, that she would dream of a memory that had taken place two and a half years prior. Truth be told, she had forgotten all about it. The dream was different, it seemed so real, so vivid. Like it happened yesterday. Upon waking and realizing that it was just a dream, that she didn't have that anymore, the gaping black hole in her heart grew just a little bit more.

"How good of you to join us," he teased lightly.

Mr. Bradley Walker was a man in his mid thirty's. He was the closest one to Blair in age, there for he ended up being the one she could count on when things went south, the closest thing she had to a friend among her team mates. He had a flourishing career, a beautiful wife he could share anything with and two children below the age of ten. She envied him. She knew it was a sin, she just couldn't help it.

She felt as if she had just been a little more open in her own marriage, that they wouldn't be going through a divorce. She couldn't help but think things would be different for the better. Would they still be together? Would he look at her different? Would he still love her? She would never know. She would never tell him. She loved him too much. She had to keep him safe. Realizing that the group of people around her were staring at her expectantly, she cleared her raw throat to speak.

"Sorry, I must have dozed off, how long until we land?" She apologized, mentally shaking herself to rid the unwanted memory.

"About twenty minutes, we briefing now," he informed her, a soft smile gracing his features.

She nodded in consent and righted her clothes, motioning for him to continue.

"Okay now that I have everyone's attention. When we land in Los Angeles, I need..." Mr. Walker started.

Blair didn't hear anything pass those words. Los Angeles. They were going to Los Angeles. Panic clawed at her chest. She needed to run. Sitting on the plane she felt trapped. She had no out. She had a flash back, her bosses words replayed in her mind.

_"Are you sure your up for this?"_

_"I just thought with everything going on, that the last thing you would need would be to-."_

_"You know no one would think illy of you should you chose to stay home. We understand._"

He hadn't been speaking about the divorce, he had been speaking about the trip. The trip to L.A. The destination he had thought she had heard, but hadn't. Remembering her oath, she took a deep breath and schooled her face into an emotionless mask, her eyes set in determination. She could do this. She just had to get in, fix the problem, and then she could leave. It wasn't that big of a deal. This time next week she would be off on some private uncharted island with her new I.D., laughing about the irony in the whole situation. Right? Right. She just had to get through the next couple of days and everything would be okay. Taking a deep breath to control her emotions, she tried to focus in on what they were saying.

* * *

Once the plane had touched ground the team began to divide into groups of two and set off on their assigned tasks.

Blair, like everyone else, headed for one of the provided cars. Just being back in California brought back an enormous amount of unwanted feelings. She couldn't rid herself of the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was a reason she never came back. She made a promise to herself that she would never again step foot in the state. She had even lied to Chuck when they were together and he had meetings in L.A. that he wanted her to accompany him on. Yet here she was, doing the very thing she promised herself she would never do.

"Bass, Can I borrow you for a moment?" Mrs. Baxlen Shaffer requested.

Rolling her eyes she doubled back to meet with The older woman of her team. Seriously, she just wanted to do her job and get it done as fast as possible, all of these unnecessary distractions were not helping. Not the mention they were really starting to piss her off.

"Make it fast Shaffer, you have two minutes," she allowed coming to a stop in front of the woman. Noting the woman's fidgety mannerisms, he narrowed her eyes suspiciously to stare the woman down.

"Dr. Agent Bass, meet Detective Audien Cadwaller, he will be working with your team for the duration of this case," she announced hesitantly, bring Blair's attention to notice the man beside her for the the first time. He was tall and thin, in his early thirty's, thirty-three if guessed correctly. He had shaggy jet black hair and bright green eyes. His suit was mediocre at best, suggesting the man was middle class, or just above averaged. Although, the cheap material hinted at the toned muscles that lay beneath. He was gorgeous. She hated him already. She despised pretty boys.

"You give me a suit?" She scoffed in disbelief. No way in hell was this happening. She was not going to get stuck baby sitting some detective.

"I assure you Bass, Detective Cadwaller is one of the best in his field division," the woman explained, glancing between the two.

"No," Blair declined, shaking her head firmly after sizing him up. She was not going to do it, simple as that. She would rather go alone, it would be faster that way. Not caring in the least if she were to offend the man.

"Bass.." the woman shifted her footing nervously.

"I don't need a partner,"She declared, pursing her lips in irritation.

"It is nonnegotiable Agent Bass." Mrs. Shaffer informed, her voice sincere in sympathy, " I have to go, I trust you two are capable of your assignment."

Blair glared at her retreating form. She wanted to scream in frustration. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she so distracted as of the late? She had never had this problem before and she has no one to blame but herself. If she would have just paid attention to what he boss was saying, she could have declined and she wouldn't have to be suffering for her own stupidity at the moment.

"Partner my ass," she mumbled under her breath, still speaking as if the man was not even there.

"Oh! And Bass? Be on your best behavior," the woman called, pausing mid-step, before sliding into one of the assigned cars.

Rolling her eyes again, she spared a glance back to the man in front of her. She narrowed her honey orbs to scrutinize him, head to toe. She didn't even know him and his presence was irritating her.

"You!" She spat, "You will stay out of my way. I do not care what they say, do not delude yourself into thinking you are in anyway associated with the word partner. You are not my partner. You are to stand to the side and do as you are told, no questions. I would advise against pissing me off, It would be a shame if I were to wonder off and accidentally lose you."

He chuckled bemusedly, obviously not sensing the seriousness of the situation.

"Dr. Blair Bass, supervisory special agent. Profiler, you specialize in homicide with psycho-semantic tendencies. Home-schooled since your mother's death, you graduated high school at the age of twelve. Using school as a distraction and refusing to cope with your loss. By the age of thirteen you were accepted into Yale. You had your doctorates' in mathematics, chemistry, and psychology by the age of twenty-one. You also hold an understudy in sociology, philosophy, and linguistics. You know thirteen languages, not including English. That same year you joined the Bureau, seven years of field experience, two years of paper pushing. You first decided you wanted to become a special agent when your mother's death was ruled as suicide. Details of which are tightly sealed. You are the only one who knows what happened, because you were the one to find the body, sending you into post traumatic stress. Consumed with guilt your father followed a few short years later. You lived with your step father up until you got married to your husband Charles Bass, whom you met through a mutual friend when you were fifteen. He has no idea who you really are. You were deemed the best in your field and have an IQ of 147 with an eidetic memory. You are so good at covering your own tracks that even your husband, who has you tailed 24/7 by multiple P.I agents, is none the wiser. You are known to be unpredictable and you don't play well with other. You are often referred to as the Ice bitch by your co-workers because they feel as if you are virtually heartless." Detective Cadwaller recited confidently, his eyes giving away how intrigued he was with her character.

"I though I was a profiler. That is a pretty detailed assumption from a standard a meet and greet," she commented, quirking eyebrow in slight interest.

"I did my research,"he answered nonchalantly.

"And the rest?" she inquired, turning to walk towards the black vehicle assigned to her.

"People talk you know," he shrugged, following behind at her lead.

"As expected."

"I hear what they say about you. You're a genius; but you have the mind of a psychopath," he elaborated.

"So I've been told," she responded, her tone bored as she tossed him the keys. "You drive."

"They say with your intense ability to tap into that state of mind that if you hadn't become a FBI agent, you would be one of the most dangerous cereal killers known to man," he continued, not taking the hint at her disinterest.

"Shame. I should have chosen the serial killer," she smirked opening passenger door and slipping onto the leather seat.

Pulling her seat-belt over her and locking it in place, she spared a glance in the mans direction to make sure he got the memo. Satisfied when she saw him take the drivers seat and place the keys in the ignition.

"You're prettier than I expected you to be," he offered the complement. Not knowing how to respond to her indifferent carefree tone, yet half understanding that it would get him no where.

She let out a slight snort at his attempt at flattery and reached for the knob to turn on some music.

"It really is inspiring that -" he tried, only to be cut off mid sentence.

"You really like the sound of your own voice don't you?" She chastised, shaking her head.

"Well, no it's just not every day that- " he tried to explain.

"Do us both a favor. Don't pretend like you know who I am," Blair refuted

"How ever, you did get one thing right," she granted. " I don't play well with others."

* * *

**A/N: So yeah, this sheds some light. Blair's character was inspired by Dr. Spencer Reid on Criminal Minds. If you don't like it don't read. I like it. I am trying my hardest to stick it out and finish my stories, but I seriously just want to delete my account. I already abandoned the show bc this season was retarded and things have gotten ridiculously far fetched. As far as this story goes obviously your not going to know everything that happens, its the fucking second chapter. Get over it. **


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